


Where the Love Light Gleams

by that_1_incident



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boston, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, Femslash, Holidays, Inspired by a Movie, New Year's Eve, New York City, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_1_incident/pseuds/that_1_incident
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an AU loosely based on Sony Pictures' "The Holiday," a detective from Manhattan and an attorney from Boston switch homes for the holidays to take a break from their tumultuous love lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Love Light Gleams

**Author's Note:**

> \- Alexandra Cabot et al. belong to Dick Wolf; Jane Rizzoli et al. belong to Tess Gerritsen.  
> \- The title is a lyric from “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” by Buck Ram, Kim Gannon and Walter Kent.  
> \- As regards the devolution of SVU’s Olivia Benson, my Liv is circa season four.  
> \- Missi Pyle’s character in “Rizzoli & Isles” episode 1x6, “I Kissed A Girl,” is never mentioned by name and only credited as “Bartender,” thus, for the purposes of this fic, the character’s name is Missi.  
> \- You can find the mix to accompany this fic [here](http://that-1-incident.livejournal.com/56796.html).  
> \- Also posted [here](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6674463/1/Where_the_Love_Light_Gleams) on FF.net and [here](http://that-1-incident.livejournal.com/56209.html) on LJ.  
> \- Art by [insaneantics21](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2048485/%22) is [here](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-T5Zr3TshO3E/TqoyiMDgKZI/AAAAAAAACTs/OlW9Ix360Ms/s600/wtllg-art.jpg).

When she looks back on it, Alex will recognize that she should’ve known better. Dating a defense attorney would be considered playing with fire for any prosecutor, but add the fact that it’s Trevor Langan, the dark-haired, dark-eyed kryptonite to Alex’s good judgment, and she’s especially screwed - which, in fact, is part of the problem. There’s just something about fighting it out in court that makes the sex afterwards _incredible_. In a twisted kind of way their courtroom battles are almost like foreplay, and whenever they spar, one loses and one comes out on top.

So to speak.

Which is why Alex figures she doesn’t have much to worry about when it comes to Trevor. In addition to the sex being fantastic, he wines and dines her when he can, but they’re both busy people with lives outside of each other and she respects that, isn’t nearly as clingy as she imagines most women to be. Their arrangement works for them and that’s why, although she's been around the block enough times to maintain a certain degree of distrust where men are concerned, she kind of feels like somehow she got lucky.

\--

The Homicide Unit is having its annual Christmas party and Alex is meant to be going to dinner with Trevor afterwards, which is both a blessing and a curse as she’s ready to leave after fifteen minutes of hobnobbing but knows he has a late meeting that won’t be over for a while. With a sigh, she leans elegantly against a table and tries to look interested in what’s going on around her.

“Are you completely and utterly bored, by any chance?”

Alex jumps at the voice but quickly relaxes when she sees her friend, Maura, standing beside her with a half-full champagne flute. She permits herself a small smile. 

“Am I that obvious, Doctor?”

Maura shrugs sunnily and gives her typical overly scientific response. “Perhaps not to the casual observer, but I can tell by the slackening of your facial muscles.” She takes a sip from her glass. “Also, you keep looking at your watch.”

Alex hurriedly puts her hand behind her back, feeling sheepish, and Maura laughs gently.

“So where are you in such a hurry to rush off to? Hot date?”

Generally Alex doesn’t like to share details of her personal life with her colleagues, but Maura has this way about her that makes it impossible not to want to open up. She grins an affirmative, and Maura claps delightedly.

“With Trevor?”

Alex rolls her eyes. “No, with one of my other boyfriends. Of course with Trevor. We’re going to Davio’s.”

“ _Davio’s_.” Maura raises her eyebrows. “Are things getting serious?”

Alex can feel the blush rising to her cheeks. “Oh, well, you know, neither of us really entered into this with that kind of expectation, but…”

“…But?” Maura prompts, eyes wide with excitement.

“But I’m pretty sure we’re heading that way despite ourselves,” she admits shyly, surprised by the thrill of excitement that races up her spine when she voices the feeling aloud for the first time. Things are good, really good, and she’s never been this into somebody before. She’s always told herself she isn’t the type to get committed, but now that she’s teetering on the brink of it, it actually feels pretty great.

Maura squeals happily, getting a faraway look in her eyes that makes Alex nervous.

“Mauraaa,” Alex says sternly. She knows that face. “Don’t get ahead of yourself with this. What are you thinking?”

“Has he ever taken you to Davio’s before?”

“Um…” Alex thinks for a second. “Actually, no. Which is weird because it’s right down the street, but. Why? How is that relevant?”

“Alex…” Maura grabs her hand and squeezes it tight. “Davio’s is a pretty upscale restaurant. People basically only go there for client meetings or special occasions. Do you think tonight… might be the night… when he proposes?”

After a stunned second of silence, Alex barks out a laugh. “No,” she says quickly, and Maura’s face falls. “No, no. We’re not ready for that yet. He’s not the type for marriage. _I’m_ not the type for marriage. I…” 

She trails off, and Maura cocks her head. “You what?”

Alex shakes her head slowly. “I was going to say I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with somebody, but with Trevor… you know, with Trevor, maybe I can.”

It’s a strange feeling to acknowledge – almost like freefalling – and although it’s extremely unsettling, it’s not entirely bad. Maura’s beaming at her like a blonde Cheshire Cat and she suddenly feels silly for taking this long to realize quite how deep her feelings go.

“What time are you supposed to meet him?”

“Um…” Alex checks the sterling silver wristwatch her parents had given her as a present for graduating law school. It’s a little out of date now, style-wise, but she loves it all the same. “He said he’d be done in an hour. Possibly sooner.”

Maura prods her gently in the shoulder. “Go and surprise him. Be waiting for him when he gets out. Go tell him how you feel.”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“Come on, I doubt it’ll backfire. He’s obviously smitten with you. He’s taking you to Davio’s, for God’s sake.”

Alex grins and reaches for her coat.

\--

Alex is virtually certain that a proposal is _not_ on the agenda, but Maura’s right – she and Trevor have been together a while now, so maybe the whole proper commitment thing isn’t as far off as she’d thought. She walks the few blocks to his office in record time with a bounce in her step, heels clicking on the sidewalk, and the receptionist recognizes her and waves her in.

“You can go straight through, Ms. Cabot. I don’t think Mr. Langan was expecting you this early, but he finished his meeting a little while ago.”

Alex’s smile falters slightly at her words. Trevor had definitely told her it’d be at _least_ another half an hour before he was done and hadn’t called to let her know otherwise, but she doesn’t allow herself to think too much about it as she slips off her jacket to reveal a simple black dress with a plunging neckline. She has such a good feeling about tonight, and she can’t wait to see him outside of work and have an evening all to themselves. In addition to her anticipation of dining at one of Boston’s most upscale restaurants, an added bonus is that she wiped the floor with him in court a few days before, so their after-dinner activities are sure to involve him absolutely _dominating_ her in the bedroom.

She hears the clunk of something falling off his perennially over-cluttered desk and smiles to herself. He’s as messy as she is neat, but she loves him for it. She mentally prepares a witty comment as she pushes open the door, but it dies in her throat when she sees Trevor with his pants down, buried to the hilt between a pair of shapely, toned legs that are _very_ much not her own. 

It takes a second for her to process what she’s seeing because the scene is just so goddamn unbelievable, but there he is – _her_ Trevor – pumping in and out of this… this _whore_ spread across his desk, his fingers tangled in her hair like he’s done with Alex so many times. Judging by the grunts he’s making he’s getting pretty close, but Alex doesn’t care a whit as she growls out, “What the _hell_?”

Trevor’s head snaps up as his hips buck forward, pushing him over the edge, and he looks at her in frozen horror as his body shudders through the most miserable release of his life. They stare at each other for a second, unblinking, and then Alex turns and leaves, slamming the door behind her.

\--

It isn’t until she’s about halfway back to her condo that Alex starts to take stock of where she is. She doesn’t remember leaving the building at all, doesn’t know how she got here, although of course she must have walked. The night air makes her shiver and she realizes she left her coat back at the office, but she’s not going back now. She’s not going back ever.

The worst part is, she _knew_ that girl. Clarissa or Karissa, Marissa… something… because Trevor had actually had the gall to introduce them the last time she’d been at the office. The girl was his _intern_ of all things, Lewinskying him for God only knows how long. Alex is so angry she sees spots in front of her eyes, and the blood coursing through her veins is fueled by anger and embarrassment.

It isn’t until after she storms up to the second floor, slams the door of Unit C and kicks off her heels in a rage that she finally dissolves into tears.

\-- 

Jane Rizzoli has honestly had it with women. She’s said it before, but this time she _means_ it. She’s done with the dishonesty, over the drama, and _especially_ sick of the goddamn mind games, and while it may not be the first time she’s made this declaration, this time – this time, she’s done for good. In fact, she’s _so_ done that the idea of a heterosexual fling crosses her mind (she has no shortage of male admirers) but then she almost throws up in her mouth a little and decides to just not seek out a relationship for a while instead.

“I’m seriously – I’m done,” she announces to the closest person in earshot, which happens to be the unfortunate Detective Munch at the next desk over. He gazes at her balefully like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world right now.

“I take it your phone call didn’t go as planned,” he says laconically, and she glares daggers at him in reply. “If it helps, you’re preaching to the converted. As a man on the wrong side of three marriages and three _very_ expensive divorce settlements, I feel qualified to say this: no good can ever come from women.” He slides his eyes over to the desk across from his, where an irritated-looking Detective Benson is raising an eyebrow. “Present company excepted, of course.”

Olivia narrows her eyes. “Nice save, John,” she says sarcastically before casting her gaze to Jane. “More girl trouble?”

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Jane laments, exhaling loudly.

Olivia makes a sympathetic noise. “Wanna have drinks after work?”

“My place or yours?”

\--

They decide on Jane’s apartment simply because it’s closer, and Jane still has leftover margarita mix from their girls’ night the previous month. They invite a mutual friend – Serena Southerlyn, the D.A. for their unit – and make a pact to enjoy an evening free of relationship talk (which of course is broken within the first hour, as these things often are).

“I just don’t understand,” Serena begins, pushing back an errant strand of long blonde hair as she firmly tucks the paper parasol from her second margarita behind her right ear, “why in a city this densely populated, there is not _one_ intelligent, beautiful –”

“Non-crazy,” Jane chips in.

“Non-closeted,” Olivia adds, and Jane groans in agreement.

“Single gay woman,” Serena finishes. “I mean, seriously. Where are they all hiding? Not bars…”

Jane chuckles. “Definitely not online dating sites…”

“And absolutely nowhere else we’d ever think to look.” Olivia sighs morosely. “You’re right, ‘Rena. They say, what, ten percent of the population is gay? Where the hell are the rest of us? Or is what we’ve come across all there is?”

Serena tucks her legs underneath her, leaning against the arm of Jane’s couch. “Maybe there’s like, a little island somewhere where ninety-five percent of the people are gay, and sane, and _waiting_ to commit to us, just to make up for the slim pickings we have around here.”

Jane sighs. “Fuck. _Take_ me there.”

Serena chuckles. “Breaking your vow of celibacy already, huh?”

Olivia frowns, suddenly serious, and Jane taps her on the knee.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Olivia replies slowly, shaking her head. “I was just thinking – that’s not a bad idea.”

Serena quirks an eyebrow. “Reneging on her self-imposed nun status, or banishing gays to a little island somewhere? Because honey, last time I checked, this country was a little past enforcing segregation.”

“That’s not what I mean.” 

Olivia sets her glass on the table and reclines on the couch where Serena’s sitting while Jane watches in amusement from the armchair. Olivia can get a little touchy-feely when she’s had a couple of drinks, and tonight is no exception. She plops her head down on Serena’s lap and Serena, likewise amused, begins to lightly run her fingers through the other woman’s hair. 

“I mean… maybe you should get away, Jane. Take a vacation. For Christmas.”

“For _Christmas_?! Olivia, do you have any idea how intense my family gets about Christmas? The last time we weren’t all together over the holidays was… never.”

“That’s what I’m saying! Do something different. Get out of town, shake your life up a bit, have a change of pace. Come back Christmas Eve or something if you don’t want to be away from them, but you never know what – or who – you’ll find until you put yourself out there.”

“I’m done with women,” Jane maintains mulishly, but Olivia just smiles.

\--

A couple of hours later, both Olivia and Serena are passed out on Jane’s couch, cuddled in each other’s arms and looking for all the world like lovers. They’re Jane’s two very best friends in the world but the trio’s friendship is strictly that, with none of them harboring feelings for either of the others, and sometimes Jane thinks it’s a shame but mostly she’s grateful for it. If two of them paired up then the third would be left out, and that would just be terrible regardless of who the couple was. 

With a sigh, she grabs her laptop from the desk beside her and pulls up Google on her Internet browser. After a moment’s pause for thought, she searches “paradise getaways” and clicks the first link.

_Serving couples nationwide, Paradise Getaways designs and plans honeymoons, destination weddings  
and romantic getaways to the Caribbean, Mexico and Hawaii. If you are getting married, celebrating an  
anniversary, or just need a romantic getaway, look no further._

Jane makes a face and clicks _Backspace_ , scanning the line of ads at the side of the search results. _Romantic weekend getaway_ , _Romantic inn in Maine_ – God, when did getting away from it all become something to only do in pairs?

She’s about to give up when her cursor hovers over an ad at the bottom of the page that reads _Home exchange_. Interest piqued, she clicks the link.

_Home Exchange is the vacation alternative where you stay in my house and I stay in yours.  
Live like a local, not a tourist!  
A vacation anywhere in the world doesn’t have to cost any more than staying at home!_

Jane laughs to herself. As much as she’d like to jet off to the Gold Coast or a Caribbean island, she has a budget to consider here. A little reluctantly, she limits the postings to U.S.-only. As long as she gets out of the city, she’ll be fine.

“Converted barn in northern Vermont…” she murmurs, reading out loud. “Idyllic setting… 12 acres of land… _40 miles from the nearest store?!_ Next.” Pause. “Alabama? Holy Republicans, Batman. _Fuck_ , no.”

Olivia stirs a little at the noise, and Jane claps her hand over her mouth until she’s reasonably sure it’s safe to continue, albeit more quietly.

“Upscale condominium in Boston’s quiet Back Bay neighborhood… Minutes away from bustling Tremont St. and just a ten-minute walk to the Common… You’ll fall in love with the cobblestone sidewalks and quaint brick buildings.”

Jane clicks on the pictures section of the listing with mild trepidation, but what she sees makes her gasp. The outside view of the building makes it look like the brownstones on the Upper East Side or the classier parts of Brooklyn. It’s nice on the inside too, with a kitchenette, bedroom, bathroom, and multipurpose dining and living space, the walls a classic magnolia accented with bright splashes of artwork.

“Where do I sign up?”

\--

Alex had posted her condo on homeexchange.com totally on a whim, her only knowledge of the site based on the faint memory of a conversation she’d overheard between colleagues at the D.A.’s office, but she’d decided to go for it. The normally poised, cooler-than-ice A.D.A had spent the past few hours curled up under a blanket, alternately sobbing and ignoring Trevor’s phone calls, and she’d determined that if she wanted to get her sanity back, she needed to get away to do it.

She doesn’t think her place looks _that_ great in the grand scheme of things, so when an e-mail pops up in her inbox she has to take a second to process it. The woman’s name is Jane, and she’s wondering if Alex has AIM.

 _acabot723_ : Hello, this is Alex.  
 _acabot723_ : (With the condo.)  
 _rizzkissedagirl0810_ : well, hello Alex-with-the-condo.  
 _rizzkissedagirl0810_ : i’m Jane. with an apartment, but that doesn’t sound as catchy.

Alex laughs in spite of herself.

 _acabot723_ : So where do you live, Jane-with-the-apartment?  
 _rizzkissedagirl0810_ : Manhattan.

New York? Alex can deal with that. She can definitely deal with that. Despite being the biggest city in New England, Boston is too laid-back for what she’s looking for right now, and it doesn’t _get_ busier and more bustling than the Big Apple itself. Sounds like the perfect distraction.

 _rizzkissedagirl0810_ : i gotta tell you, your place looks idyllic... exactly what i need.  
 _acabot723_ : Boston’s pretty quiet, especially compared to somewhere like NYC. Looking for a change?  
 _rizzkissedagirl0810_ : exactly.

Alex smiles at the screen.

 _acabot723_ : Me too.  
 _acabot723_ : What does your apartment look like?  
 _rizzkissedagirl0810_ : it’s nice. a little bigger than yours from what i can tell. i kinda sank a buncha money into it in lieu of a stable girlfriend to spoil.

There’s a pause because Alex isn’t quite sure what to say, but then she sees that Jane’s typing again.

 _rizzkissedagirl0810_ : do you mind that i’m gay?

“Um…” Alex leans away from the computer, re-crosses her legs, rubs her eyes, and reads Jane’s question over.

 _acabot723_ : Why would I care about that? You’ll be living in my condo, not proposing to me.  
 _rizzkissedagirl0810_ : some people would. figured i’d give you fair warning.  
 _rizzkissedagirl0810_ : so when can i come?

Alex likes this woman, or at least what she knows of her. Perhaps it’s silly to make such a snap judgment, but she’d trust Jane to look after her place, she thinks. And she _badly_ needs to get the hell out of Boston.

 _acabot723_ : Tomorrow too soon?

She wonders how the question comes across – whether the other woman will think she’s serious or just kidding. Traveling can be expensive at this time of year, especially last-minute, and not everyone has their boss on their back encouraging them to take their first vacation in years. Alex squeezes her eyes shut until she hears the chime of the instant messaging service. When she opens them, she can barely believe what she’s reading.

 _rizzkissedagirl0810_ : tomorrow sounds perfect!

\--

Alex barely sleeps a wink that night, but she’s glad for the distraction of cleaning the condo because it keeps the mental images of Trevor and that intern at bay. The wood floors sparkle with polish, there’s not a single dust mote on any of the windowsills, and every wall hanging has been straightened to within an inch of its life. She has an outfit packed for every day, enough pairs of pants to go with everything, and a couple of oversized nightshirts for good measure (although the old shirt of Trevor’s remains firmly at the bottom of her dresser drawer). By the time the cab comes to take her to Logan Airport, she’s in good enough spirits to write a chipper “Welcome home, Jane!” on the magnetic Post-Its on her fridge.

\--

“You’re… wait, you’re _what_?” 

Serena’s hair is mussed and tangled, and there’s a strand sticking up at an angle that makes Jane want to laugh. 

“I’m driving to Boston,” she says instead.

Olivia puts her hands over her face and yawns. “How much did I _drink_ last night?” She gives her head a brusque shake as if to bring herself to her senses, then looks over at Jane. “ _Why_?”

“For a home exchange,” Jane responds nonchalantly. “I met this woman – Alex – and we both need to get away, so… today it is.”

“Sweetheart…” Olivia’s staring at her like she’s lost her mind. “Not to burst your bubble, but this sounds like a sexual predator’s dream. How do you know this Alex isn’t actually a guy who’ll be waiting to burst out of a back bedroom and rape you as soon as you get there?”

“Because she’ll be coming here? You’ll get to meet her. This is where she’ll be staying for the next two weeks.”

Serena and Olivia exchange incredulous glances, and Jane can’t help but crack up.

\--

Half an hour later, the three women are dressed for the day and looking decidedly less disheveled. Olivia leans against the island in the middle of Jane’s kitchen, nursing a hot cup of coffee as Jane and Serena sit opposite and split a slice of toast.

“If you’re seriously going to do this, at least let one of us be here when she arrives. We should run her through the database - check her for priors.”

Jane rolls her eyes. “She’s an A.D.A.”

Serena drops her toast butter-side down, then hastily grabs a napkin. “And you didn’t think it was pertinent to inform me?!”

“It was more fun seeing you freak out about what ungodly side of the tracks she was from, to be honest.”

“Jane…” Serena’s trying to look angry, but Jane’s known her long enough to tell when she’s faking. She sighs. “What did you say her name was?”

“Uh… Cabot. Alexandra Cabot.”

Serena’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You know her?” Jane queries.

“I’m not completely sure she’s the person I’m thinking of, but if she is…” Serena shakes her head and utters a low whistle.

“…Is she gay?” Jane and Olivia ask in the same breath.

“As far as I know, she’s straight as an arrow.”

“ _Damn_ it.”

\--

Alex hasn’t been to New York in a while. Her parents took her a couple of times when she was still in grade school, and once some of her Harvard friends decided it would be cool to be in Times Square at New Year’s (it wasn’t; just slushy and freezing and very, very crowded), but she’s never been alone in the city before, free to explore as she wishes. 

She takes a cab from JFK and can’t help but hang out of the window, gazing at the lights and brilliance of downtown. The possibilities here seem endless. She could take in a Broadway show, go shopping at Bloomingdales, wander through Central Park with a steaming cup of Starbucks hot chocolate. She doesn’t realize they’re on Jane’s street until the cab slows down in front of what must be the apartment building, so she pays the driver and just stands there on the sidewalk for a minute, gazing up through the light snow flurries at what is to be her home for the next two weeks.

Presently she sees movement through the windows of the front door, and when she focuses she can make out the slender form of a woman descending the staircase. She assumes it’s a resident who happens to be leaving until the woman opens the door and asks “Alex?”

“Um… yeah,” Alex replies, surprised to find anyone here who knows her name. “Jane? I thought you said you were going to leave a few hours ago.”

“She did. I’m her friend, Olivia.” The woman flashes the badge at her hip. “And I’m a member of New York’s finest, ma’am, so don’t be afraid to follow me upstairs.” She winks, holding the door open, and Alex laughs and steps inside. 

\--

Jane’s apartment is lovely. There’s a terracotta-painted focal wall behind the fireplace, and the couch cushions are all varying shades of brown and burnt orange, giving the place a very autumnal feel. The scented candle burning on the coffee table enhances the room’s already warm glow, making it smell heavenly – so much so that Alex forgets she has company and drops her bags to close her eyes and just _inhale_.

She feels self-conscious when she remembers Olivia’s presence, but when she opens her eyes the other woman is standing at her side with a smile on her face.

“I told Jane the candle would be a wise investment. We ran to the store this morning and grabbed a few things to make the place feel more homely.”

Alex unwraps the scarf from around her neck and hangs it on the coat peg by the door before shrugging off her jacket. “Well, you did a fantastic job. It’s beautiful.”

Olivia beams, and it’s probably just the room’s lighting but Alex can almost swear there’s a hint of a blush dusting the brunette’s high cheekbones. 

“So, hey.” Olivia gestures to the kitchen. “Let me show you where everything is.”

\--

Ten minutes later and the women top off their tour of the apartment by nestling on Jane’s couch with cups of tea in matching mugs.

“So Jane says you work for the D.A.?”

“Mmmhm.” Alex blows gently on her tea before taking a cursory sip. “Homicide division. You?”

“SVU.”

“Oh, God.” Alex sets the mug down on the table and hugs her knees to her chest. “Rape victims?”

“Alive and dead,” Olivia says lightly, but there’s a sadness in her eyes that belays her cool demeanor. “Also cases involving children and the elderly.”

Alex doesn’t know what to say. As insensitive as it sounds, in a way she’s grateful that the victims she has to deal with are corpses. She doesn’t know how she’d even _begin_ to handle a live vic struggling with the level of trauma incurred from a violent assault – especially a rape. 

“But let’s not talk about work anymore, okay?” Olivia says, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”

Her voice is soft, and Alex takes the first chance she’s had since they met to really properly look at the other woman. Olivia’s wearing faded blue jeans and barely a lick of makeup – maybe some mascara and a little blush, if Alex squints – but she looks _unfairly_ beautiful. Her chestnut hair appears from its styling to once have been cropped boy-short, but has now grown out enough to fall over her ears in gentle waves. In addition to the jeans, she’s dressed casually in a men’s style button-down that’s sufficiently loose as to not hug the curves of her hips, yet tight enough to fall taut across the swell of her breasts. There’s a hint of cleavage exposed – nothing improprietous, but just tantalizing enough to make Alex falter for a second. 

“…Go ahead,” Alex responds a little belatedly.

“Why don’t you have an accent like Matt Damon?”

Alex nearly chokes on her tea as the unexpected laughter bubbles up in her throat. “Um… we grew up in slightly different areas of Boston,” she explains wryly. 

“Ah.” Olivia grins. “I like yours better.”

\--

It really doesn’t occur to Alex that Olivia might be gay until the detective makes a passing reference to an ex-girlfriend, and this might sound prejudiced but she doesn’t _seem_ gay so Alex just never considered it. Alex doesn’t have a problem with gay people – never has, doubts she ever will – and she doesn’t want Olivia to feel like some kind of zoo exhibit, it’s just that she’s honestly fascinated. It’s nothing you can tell by looking, and yet this fundamental part of the other woman – who she’s attracted to, who she sleeps with – is somehow so very different. Alex is intrigued by it, and wishes she knew how to ask to hear more.

After Olivia leaves (or Liv, as the other woman insists she call her now that they’ve properly met) Alex wanders through the apartment again, reacquainting herself with her new place of residence. There are some framed photos on Jane’s shelves and if Alex has guessed correctly, the raven-haired beauty common to both family portraits and snapshots with friends must be the woman herself. Jane doesn’t “look” gay either. Kind of tomboyish, maybe, but for a policewoman with two brothers that’s hardly unusual. 

She spots Liv in some of the pictures, typically alongside a pretty blonde who often has an arm around her. Alex assumes it’s her girlfriend before deciding it’s probably time to stop snooping and turn out the lights.

\--

Jane can’t sleep. She knows it’s silly because it’s not like she’s in the wilderness or anything, but the absence of honking and various other forms of hubbub outside the window is freaking her out. There’s the occasional passing car but aside from that, nothing other than the creaks and groans of the old brownstone settling on its foundations. 

Tomorrow – just to reassure herself she’s not missing anything – she’ll hit the gay bars to see how Boston compares to New York.

\--

Jane awakens _entirely_ too early in the morning, and the shrill, insistent ringing of the house phone is solely to blame. 

“G’morning,” she slurs sleepily into the mouthpiece, mainly just to get the ringing to stop.

“Alex? What’s wrong? Do you have a cold?”

“Uh, no, this is Jane.”

“Oh.” The person on the other end of the line obviously has no clue who she is or what she’s doing there. “Is… is Alex there?”

Jane hauls herself into a sitting position and runs her hands through her curls. “Sorry, who’s this?”

“Maura. From the M.E.’s Office. Her friend?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what? About Trevor? She texted me, can you believe that? And in the middle of the night, too. Who _texts_ someone with that kind of news? We’d just discussed how serious they were getting! Ugh, I would’ve woken up if she’d called. I wish she’d just–”

Jane raises her hand in a “slow down” gesture even though the other woman can’t see it. “Wait, wait. I don’t know anything about a Trevor. I don’t even know who Trevor is. I’m her home exchange partner.”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s at my apartment in New York.”

The line goes quiet for a few seconds. 

“Perhaps I ought to call her cell phone.”

\--

Jane spends the rest of the day exploring, mainly wandering through the Common and perusing the dusty old bookstores of Beacon Hill. It hasn’t snowed since she got here but it’s thick on the ground, kneaded into a compact blanket by the relentless footfalls of passers-by. She gets dinner for one at a restaurant near the water, looking out across the Charles to the neighboring city of Cambridge. Harvard is there, and MIT, and she’s sure there are others whose names she either can’t remember or never knew. Just on her walk here alone she’d passed Emerson, Suffolk, and Nova Southeastern, and she thinks she remembers reading somewhere that there are more than sixty colleges and universities in the Boston area.

Sometimes she wishes she could have gone to college. As far as her parents knew, she had no interest and that was why she’d joined the Police Academy, but the real reason was that she knew her dad’s plumbing company didn’t make enough to pay tuition and her family would’ve sold everything they had to help her go. She couldn’t let them do that, which was why it had just seemed easier to lie to them. 

She takes a different route on the way back to the condo, checking MapQuest on her phone to ensure she doesn’t stray too far off her course, and stumbles upon the kind of bar she’d hoped she’d find here: classy, not too loud, and 99% women, with the notable exception of the burly bouncer at the door. Like she’d told Liv and Serena back in New York, gay bars had proven to be a really shitty place to find anyone looking for a committed relationship, but they’re perfect for seeking out one-night stands and maybe that’s what she needs right now. _A change of pace_ , Liv had said. Something like this would definitely fall into that category, even if it’s not necessarily what her friend had meant. Straightening the lapels of her jacket, Jane takes a deep breath and heads inside.

\--

Alex’s first day in New York passes pleasantly enough. She checks out the tree at Rockefeller Center, window-shops on Fifth Avenue, and avoids thinking about Trevor almost completely. A watch in the window of Tiffany’s makes her think of the one she’d been planning to get him for Christmas, but she pushes the association out of her mind almost as soon as it enters.

She keeps her phone on silent all day and that’s a novelty in itself, a strange, almost eerie stillness taking the place of the usual buzzing and ringing. She doesn’t check it at all until twilight, when she’s heading back to Jane’s apartment to go through the detective’s cache of take-out menus and select the most appealing. She’d passed plenty of enticing restaurants but can’t face the idea of going in and requesting a table for one. 

Unsurprisingly, there are several missed calls from Trevor that she promptly ignores, but also one from Maura and one from Liv, with whom she’d exchanged numbers in case anything came up with the apartment. She considers calling Maura, but her friend will no doubt want to hear about what happened with Trevor and she just… she can’t right now. She skips to Liv’s number and presses _Call_.

\--

“Hey, Alex, how’s the Big Apple treating you?” 

Liv picks up on the second ring, her friendly voice a comfort after such a solitary day. Alex can feel her lips curving up at the corners. 

“Quite well so far, thank you,” she responds politely. “How are things with you?”

“Oh, work is pretty crazy, but that’s not unusual. I’m here catching up on some paperwork. Do you have dinner plans?”

 _Not since the last ones were ruined by the intern_ , Alex wants to say. “Uh, no. Why, did you have something in mind?”

“There’s a diner a couple blocks from the squad room. How do you feel about meeting me there in, say, an hour?”

“That… actually sounds perfect,” Alex admits, surprised by how much she’s looking forward to it.

“Great,” Liv says warmly. “I’ll see you there.”

\--

Alex hasn’t been to a diner in years, so her instinct is to go for the dressier clothing she’d brought with her before she catches herself and rethinks. This isn’t dinner at Davio’s, and she’d probably look out of place eating a burger and fries in a cocktail dress. She deliberates for a second, then opts for a simple white blouse left unbuttoned over a black tank top, paired with boot-cut jeans and black pumps. A little light make up completes the look, and as she gives her hair a quick brush in Jane’s full-length mirror she can’t help but notice feeling happier and more relaxed than she has since this whole Trevor nightmare began. 

She makes it to the diner in good time, and the rush of central heating as she steps over the threshold is a welcome respite from the frostbitten outdoors. She spots Liv easily, sitting in a booth and shooting the breeze with a slightly older, somewhat balding man. Liv’s wearing what Alex assumes to be her work clothes – black dress pants, square-heeled boots and a basic blouse – and she looks fantastic.

The detective glances up and waves her over as the man stands up to leave, extending his hand to Alex.

“Elliot Stabler, Olivia’s partner.”

“Alexandra Cabot.” Alex gives him a firm handshake. “Please, don’t leave on my account.”

“Oh, I have a wife and kids to get home to, but thank you.” He winks at Liv. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

Liv rolls her eyes. “Say hi to Kathy for me.”

Elliot salutes her and ambles off toward the exit.

“Don’t mind him,” Liv says, turning to Alex. “When I go to dinner with a woman he hasn’t met before, it’s usually a date.”

Alex isn’t sure what to say to that so she settles for “Oh,” embarrassed by how flustered Liv’s comment made her. She _knows_ she must be blushing right now, can actually feel the warmth creeping up her neck to splotch across her cheeks, but Liv doesn’t make a big deal out of it, just pushes a menu towards her and says, “Get whatever you want. It’s on me.”

“Oh, Olivia, I couldn’t possibly –”

“It’s Liv now, remember? And yeah, you can.” She quirks an eyebrow. “Next time’s on you?”

Alex chuckles. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

\--

The bar’s name is Merch, which Jane had been mentally pronouncing like the abbreviation for _merchandise_ until the bartender corrects her, and she feels kind of stupid until the other woman laughs it off with the reassurance of “We get that all the time. It’s Welsh for _girl_. Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, I’ll get a… Sam Adams, thanks.” It’s not her usual, but hey, when in Boston, do as the Bostonians do.

The bartender’s tall – Jane’s betting around six feet – with a slender build and loose blonde curls that hang to just below her shoulders. There’s a look in her eyes that’s hungry, almost predatory, and she looks Jane up and down appraisingly for a moment before a quick, feral smile indicates her approval. 

“You’re not from here, are you?”

Jane raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”

“The way you carry yourself.” She sets the beer down on the bar and wipes a stripe of warmth through the clouded cold glass before running her fingertip slowly and deliberately down Jane’s wrist. “Stick around for a while, won’t you? We’ll show you how it’s done here.”

“I may just do that,” Jane purrs, trying not to shiver at the cool contact. “But for now…” She tilts her head in the direction of the space cleared between the tables. “The dance floor awaits.”

“You’ll be back,” the bartender says cockily, and damn, Jane hasn’t met someone so unabashedly overconfident in quite a while. It awakens the dominant side of her, tugging at her libido. 

“Probably,” she acknowledges, “but only to get a drink for whoever I pick up tonight.” 

She can feel the bartender’s fiery gaze boring into her back as she walks away.

\--

Jane’s always been the type to let girls come to her rather than making the first move, so when an attractive brunette in business-casual attire comes sidling up, she expects a drink offer or an invitation to dance or something, but certainly not an inquiry about whether she’s a member of cupid4girls.com. Although Jane has posted on many online dating sites, she’s never been recognized from one out of the blue before.

“Uh… I haven’t been active on it in a while, and you’d only have seen me if you were searching the New York City listings, but yeah, I have a profile.”

“I’m in New York a lot on business,” the woman explains. “I’m Katie, otherwise known as katielaw32.”

“Good to meet you, katielaw32,” Jane says wryly. “So, hey, you seem like you’re a regular here – care to, uh… show me the ropes?”

Katie’s eyes twinkle wickedly. “Walk this way.”

\--

They’re getting pretty hot and heavy on the dance floor for a club without go-go dancers gyrating on pedestals when Jane feels a flash of cold from the hand Katie had eased under her shirt to grasp her hip with, the other woman’s body undulating insistently against hers. She stiffens and Katie stops, murmuring, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just… what is that, a ring or something?”

A wave of tension frissons through Katie’s body just long enough for Jane to pick up on before she gets it under control. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a keepsake. I can take it off if you want.”

“No, wait…” Jane slides her hand down to rest on top of Katie’s, tilting it upwards so she can inspect it. “That’s a wedding ring.”

Katie pulls out of her grasp, looking guilty.

“You’re married?!”

“I… to a woman,” Katie says defensively, but, wow – like that makes it any better? Massachusetts is one of the only goddamn states in the country that will allow her to have a lawfully wedded wife, and this is what she does with that freedom?

“I don’t do shit with married women,” Jane says coldly, and stalks away.

\--

It takes about a minute of silence before the blonde from earlier drapes herself across the bar and says silkily, “So that looked like it went well.”

Jane glares at her disparagingly. “You stay out of this. And can you get me another beer, please, uh…?”

“Missi,” she supplies. “Missi with an I. That’s what I go by these days.”

Jane can’t even believe this woman. “Uh, okay, Missi-with-an-I, so what does your _birth certificate_ go by?”

Missi makes a face. “Andrea Kay.”

“…Missi it is, then,” Jane concedes, trying to suppress a chuckle, and the blonde tilts her head and grins, that hunger from earlier back in her eyes. 

“And you are?”

“Jane Rizzoli,” Jane shoots back, adding “NYPD” a little smugly.

“A _policewoman_.” Missi runs her tongue across her lips.

“Detective, actually,” Jane can’t help but boast, slipping her card out of her pocket and handing it flirtatiously across the bar. Missi takes it and fingers the edges.

“You got anywhere to be tonight?”

“Do you think I’d be here if I did?”

Missi sets her glass down in front of her. “Touché.”

And then, just as the conversation seems to be going somewhere, she smirks and peels herself off the bar to attend to another patron, leaving Jane hanging without another word. She doesn’t excuse herself or look back or anything, and before Jane knows it, she’s touching another woman's wrist just like she’d done with Jane.

“Goddamn,” Jane murmurs to herself. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea in the first place - she’s kidding herself if she thinks she can deal with a no-strings arrangement. With a final baleful glance at Missi, she drains her beer and leaves.

\--

The pie of the day is blueberry so Alex and Liv get one slice and two spoons, chatting about their jobs and the trials that come with them. Liv’s never quite got comfortable with testifying in court, while handling a living witness to a homicide has always been difficult for Alex. 

“I don’t think my mother would sleep a wink if I had your job,” Alex tells her laughingly. “She worries enough every time a case comes along involving the Irish mob. She thinks they’re gonna put a hit out on me.”

“They might if you do your job well enough,” Liv retorts, only half joking, and when Alex glances up from her plate it’s like the other woman’s whole face is different. “My mother used to worry too,” she goes on softly, and oh. Oh, God.

“Is she – I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

Liv shrugs. “At least she died proud of me. She knew it was because of her that I got into this line of work and helped so many people.”

Alex is quiet, listening. It’s insane how the tone of the conversation changed so quickly, but she senses that if she doesn’t interrupt, Liv might continue.

“I don’t usually come out and tell people this right off the bat, but. Almost forty years ago, she got raped, and…” Liv spreads her hands, palms-upward. “Here I am.”

There’s a horrible silence after Liv’s admission, and the words hit Alex with all the force of a speeding train. It’s hard to wrap her mind around it, that this confident, caring, _beautiful_ woman was born of an attack so violent and ugly. There are no tears in Olivia’s eyes, just a quiet, tortured acceptance, but Alex’s vision grows blurry before she can help herself. The recent events in her life must be starting to take their toll on her, but she feels embarrassed by her display of emotion anyway.

“Hey, Alex, c’mon. Don’t. You don’t have to get upset over this.” Liv grabs a couple of paper napkins out of the dispenser on their table and hands them to Alex with a concerned look on her face.

“I’m fine, I promise,” Alex manages, dabbing at her eyes and doing her best to pull herself together. “It’s just been a stressful few days, that’s all. I needed to get away, and there’s, um. Some stuff I have to deal with…” She frowns at her own vagueness. If Liv can be honest about being a product of rape, she should be able to go into more detail about her relationship issues, but she’s not ready to refer to Trevor as an ex yet and doesn’t know how else to explain it. “I just haven’t quite figured out how to.”

Liv rests her hand on top of Alex’s, giving it a light squeeze. “You know part of my training was learning how to listen, right? This job isn’t all running around with my gun drawn, flashing my badge at people and telling them to freeze.”

Alex laughs in spite of herself. “I do know. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Liv says kindly. “Now, let’s get you home.”

\--

It’s snowing by the time they get back to the apartment, and as Liv walks Alex to the door she warns her to be careful of the ice that can form on the front steps in this kind of weather. 

“We’ll make plans later in the week?” she asks hopefully as Alex gets her keys out, and Alex turns to her and smiles.

“Bet on it.” There’s an awkward silence for a second as they stand there just staring at each other, and then before she knows it she’s continuing, “Liv, I’ve never done this before and now is probably a really bad time in my life to be making these kinds of decisions, but… Don’t say anything for a second, okay?”

“Okay…” Liv replies uncertainly, and Alex takes a deep breath and kisses her.

\--

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Jane exhales in irritation as she tries the wrong key in the door of Alex’s condo _again_. After two more attempts she successfully locates the right one and storms inside in annoyance. She’s really just sick of girls and their bullshit, and although she’d kind of been joking about celibacy before, it truly is beginning to seem like her best option. She’s about to start her regular cooling-off ritual of channel-flipping to the most ridiculous thing she can find and seeing how long she can stand to watch it when she feels a vibration at her hip and looks down to find her cell phone ringing. She glares at it murderously until she sees Liv’s name on the Caller ID.

“Rizzoli,” she says lightly, because it pisses Liv off when she knows it’s a friend but answers formally anyway.

“Jane, I messed up.”

Jane freezes. Olivia’s one of the most levelheaded people she knows – when _she_ panics, it’s pretty much a given that whatever went down is nothing short of a full-blown catastrophe. She sits straight down on Alex’s coffee table because it’s the nearest flat surface available, and puts on her best interviewing-grieving-relatives voice before asking, “What happened?”

Liv sighs unhappily. “You know your home… switch… partner… person?”

“Alex? Is she okay? Did something happen?”

“Well, tonight we were at the diner together, and–”

“Shit, Liv, I’m getting another call, hang on.” Jane looks at the display screen of her phone then puts it back against her ear hurriedly. “Gimme a second and I’ll be right back.” She presses a button. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jane, um. It’s Alex.”

“Hey! Is everything okay?”

“Fine!” Alex says quickly – too quickly for it to be true, but Jane really has no business prying if she’s not willing to be upfront about it. “Totally fine.”

“Okay, well, listen, I would love to talk to you about this whole…” She waves her hand in the air, searching for the right adjective before settling on “crazy experience, but I’ve got my friend Liv on the other line and she’s upset about something, so is it okay if I call you back in a little while?”

“You’re talking to Liv?” Alex’s voice sounds suddenly different now, more raw, yet at the same time there’s an added sense of guardedness. “Is… she okay?”

“You met, I take it? I told her she didn’t need to babysit my apartment until you got there, but she’s not the kinda person who’ll usually take no for an answer. And, uh, I don’t know – we’d just started talking when you called.”

“Oh. Well, can you find out how she’s doing for me?” 

Jane raises her eyebrows. “I… how _Liv’s_ doing? Sure. Hold on one second.” She presses the button again. “Liv?”

“Yeah, so anyway–”

“I have _Alex_ on the other line and she’s wondering how you’re doing.”

Dead silence. 

“She’s wondering what?” Liv hedges, but Jane’s having none of it.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here but – oh, God, wait. You did _not_.”

Liv wisely elects to stay silent.

“Tell me you didn’t sleep with her.”

“Of course not!” Liv says indignantly. “We just kissed. _She_ kissed _me_ , Jane. I wasn’t expecting it. How was I supposed to–”

“Olivia…” Jane stands up from the coffee table and paces the condo, absently twirling a lock of hair around the index finger of her free hand. “This is a really bad idea.”

“I know.”

“We said no more women who aren’t out.”

“I _know_!” Liv wails. 

Jane’s voice softens. “So where do you want to go from here?”

“I’m not sure. Did she say anything about it?”

“Oh, Jesus, I forgot she was on the other line, Liv – one minute.” She lowers the phone from her ear and presses a button. “Alex? You still there?”

“Mmhm.” Alex’s voice sounds quavery, like she’s scared or just been crying or both. 

“Liv’s fine, okay? She’s more worried about you.”

“Me? Did she… what did she tell you?”

“Enough,” Jane says gently, and Alex groans. “Just… take a couple days to think about all this, okay? She’ll give you as much time as you need, so don’t worry about her. She’s one of the good ones.”

“Okay,” Alex replies in a small voice. She feels very unlike herself right now, unsure the authoritative A.D.A. with complete command over a courtroom even exists inside of her at this point in time. “You know… I came here to get away from relationship drama. I’m not sure how I managed to embroil myself in more of it.”

“Well, girls have a way of being complicated,” Jane responds wryly. “Call me whenever, okay?”

“I will. Goodnight, Jane. Thank you.”

“Anytime. I mean it.” Jane hangs up with Alex, blows her bangs off her face and flips call-waiting back to Liv. “Okay, continue.”

“I basically told you all of it, just… where the fuck do I go from here, Jane? I like her – a _lot_ – but I wasn’t expecting to _get_ her. You know? Serena said she was straight.”

Sometimes Jane thinks she and her friends should write a soap opera about the trials and tribulations they face on a daily basis. They could call it _Gays of Our Lives_ or some shit. It’d be a big hit, she’s sure of it. She frowns down at a squeaky floorboard in Alex’s living room.

“Just, uh… give her a couple of days, yeah? I’m not sure how much she told you, but a friend of hers called here earlier and I kinda inferred from the conversation that she’s going through a breakup.”

Liv’s quiet for a second, then paraphrases slowly, “…So what you’re telling me is that she’s rebounding? And that’s on _top_ of me probably being her first lesbian experiment?”

Jane winces. “That would seem to be the situation, yeah.”

“Well, son of a _bitch_.”

\--

They all lie low for a few days: Alex avoiding Liv, Liv avoiding Alex, and Jane avoiding the entire section of Boston above the Back Bay area. Alex finally calls Maura, explaining some things but leaving out others, while Liv spills every sordid detail to Serena. And as for Jane… Jane decides to go grocery shopping, because she misses her mom’s cooking even more than she expected and figures a good session in the kitchen might help snap her out of her funk. 

Truth be told, she’s pretty strongly considering going home early. She’s staying at a lovely place in a lovely neighborhood, but it was stupid to think that temporarily relocating would change anything. It’d be easy to leave whenever she wanted – no plane tickets to book, just jumping in her car and heading back down the highway to her parents’ house in Queens – but for some reason something inside her is telling her to stick it out for another couple of days.

She’s at a grocery store in the shadow of the Prudential Center trying to figure out where the _hell_ to find the pasta sauce when she turns around and promptly ploughs into Missi.

\--

Maddeningly, Missi looks as put-together and unruffled as ever, which only serves to fluster Jane even more. 

“Guess I never know where you’re gonna show up next,” Missi drawls, then inquires “You coming to the club tonight?” like nothing had even happened.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Jane responds flatly.

Missi looks surprised. “No, actually. It was fun watching your exploits with Boston’s most prolific adultress. I figured you might wanna play again.”

“Uh, strangely enough, no.”

“Not even if I give you a little incentive?”

Jane scowls. She _knows_ this conversation is probably going to lead to nothing but trouble, but her curiosity gets the best of her. She is a detective, after all. “What kind of incentive?” she queries in spite of herself.

Missi smiles, slips past Jane (and really, it’s not _that_ narrow of an aisle – there’s no need to get quite so intimate), and whispers in her ear, “The kind that’ll make it worth your while.”

Jane hates girls. She really does.

\--

Alex’s second full day in New York really isn’t that different from her first, except now she has two things not to think about rather than just one. She watches speed chess in Central Park until her lips turn blue, then ducks into Saks to buy a couple of outfits she really doesn’t need. And just like the day before, she has three missed calls from Trevor and one from Maura, but unlike the previous day, the Medical Examiner is first on her list.

Over the rest of the week, it’s only the two of them who try to contact her, which bothers her more than she’ll admit. It’s funny – she’d almost be less hurt if _Trevor_ stopped calling rather than Liv, which doesn’t make any sense at all. She tries taking her mind off things with an open-top bus tour, and makes a point of going to check out the Manhattan County Courthouse. It’s a lot more impressive-looking than the one in Boston, and she tries to imagine scaling its grand staircase every day in heels.

The day after her courthouse adventure there’s supposed to be a snowstorm, so she battens down the hatches and stays inside. Somewhere between _The Wendy Williams Show_ and a rerun of an old crime procedural, she realizes she never turned her phone on silent and somehow can’t bring herself to do so. She glances at it forlornly every so often, but hears nothing from Liv, who she should probably start thinking of as “Olivia” again because she doubts they’ll stay friends after this. 

She stares at the TV screen for a while, trying to pay attention but ultimately stewing in her own thoughts. When Trevor calls, she picks up.

\--

Jane’s really not sure what she’s doing back at Merch. The music’s pounding and she’s standing in the doorway feeling terribly displaced, watching Missi tend bar until the other woman glances up and waves her over. Tonight she’s wearing a black vest with nothing underneath it, displaying slim, toned arms and a hint of cleavage, and she winks as Jane approaches.

“Long time no see,” she cracks, and Jane rolls her eyes. “What can I get you? Your usual?”

Jane laughs. “You say that like this isn’t only my second time here, but, yeah. Sure. My usual.”

“Be right back,” Missi purrs, and Jane surreptitiously checks out her ass as she bends to grab a bottle out of the fridge behind the bar. By the time the other woman resurfaces, however, her gaze has wandered to the girls on the dance floor. Without warning, Missi presses the cold bottle into her hand and she gasps, turning sharply.

“Uh, thanks,” she manages, a little breathless, and Missi makes a shooing motion. 

“Go play. Come back around two if you want your incentive.”

“…I thought this place closed at two,” Jane says slowly, frowning.

Missi grins mischievously. “Exactly.”

\--

Jane dances with a few girls, strikes up a couple of decent conversations and even buys someone a cosmo, but there’s no-one she’s seriously into and she doesn’t think anybody’s seriously into her – which is probably preferable, because for some reason her thoughts keep wandering back to the woman at the bar. Out of the corner of her eye, she spies Missi watching her from time to time and tries to ignore the electric thrill that burgeons in her chest. 

It’s so different coming to a club like this alone. Normally Liv and Serena are her “wingwomen,” so she rationalizes that she’s merely taking comfort in having someone she knows close at hand, even if it’s just a bartender she’s met twice before. In a city of strangers, she’ll take what she can get.

\--

Around ten minutes to closing time, Jane sidles over to the bar and perches on a stool at one end of it. It’s last call and Missi’s rushed off her feet, but when she looks up and sees Jane, she smiles. The patrons start to trickle out slowly, and at a few minutes after two she begins upending barstools to give the remaining ones the hint. Jane’s still sitting, feeling awkward, and a couple of the stragglers look at her weirdly but Missi shows no signs of noticing. When the last one leaves, she tells the bouncer he’s free to go before directing her attention towards Jane.

“How are you at lifting chairs?”

“Uh, pretty excellent,” Jane parries. “But I don’t work for nothing.”

“You won’t be,” Missi says mysteriously before gesturing to a corner of the room. “You can start over there.”

\--

Jane really doesn’t know how she got herself into this. She hasn’t done menial labor since she was still in high school, helping her father lug boxes of plumbing parts to and from his van. When he’d take her on jobs in the summertime and on weekends, she’d hand him j-traps and p-traps and all manner of fittings, some of which she still can’t tell apart to this day. Sometimes she’d just pick something that looked cool and he’d either accept it or hand it back with a reproachful look on his face. He paid her in candy or cassette tapes, slipping her a ten dollar bill once in a while, but somehow Jane doesn’t think that’s quite what Missi has in mind.

She wipes her brow with the back of her sleeve after the last chair is lifted. “Now what?”

Missi pokes her head out of the store room behind the bar. “Now comes the fun part.” 

She’s holding a crate in her hand, and Jane eyes it suspiciously. “And what might that be? Weight-lifting martini mix?”

Missi giggles – straight up giggles – and she’s always been so suave that it takes Jane by surprise. “No, the box has nothing to do with it. C’mere. I’ll go put it down.” 

She disappears into the recesses of the store room, which is either very large or very dark, because Jane can’t make out the other woman’s silhouette at all. She steps in haltingly.

“Aren’t there any lights in here?”

“There are,” comes Missi’s voice, purring close to her ear, “but I figured we’d have more fun without them.”

Before Jane has time to process this, Missi’s hand is at the waistband of her jeans, slipping inside and pressing her back against the wall. Missi’s teeth sink into her neck and she moans, knowing that’ll leave a mark well into the morning. She grabs at Missi’s hair, weaving it through her fingers, and then it’s Missi’s turn to make a noise before Jane tugs her head up and presses their lips together.

They battle for dominance, both refusing to submit, and whenever Jane gets the upper hand Missi moves her fingers and sets her gasping for breath. Jane struggles to retaliate, pressing her thigh against the warmth of Missi’s body, and she can tell when she hits her just right because Missi’s whole body jolts and she bites down on Jane’s lip. They undulate against each other, their only sounds those of soft cries and wet kisses, and when Jane gets close she arches her hips and tightens her grasp on Missi’s hair, sending Missi over the edge simultaneously. 

They catch their breaths together in the darkness for a moment before Missi leans across and flips a switch on the wall, bathing them both in harsh, fluorescent lighting that makes Jane squint. Missi’s cheeks are flushed and her hair is a mess; Jane can only imagine what _she_ looks like. 

“Worth it?” Missi purrs, and Jane laughs throatily, still getting her breath back.

“I suppose,” she concedes coyly.

Missi laughs and punches her in the shoulder.

\--

“Alex?”

Trevor sounds like he can’t believe she actually answered, and she’s already regretting it because hearing his voice is something she really isn’t ready for. She can’t imagine what it’s going to be like to face him in court after this. God, she can’t even think about it.

“If this is about the stuff you left at my apartment, I’ll drop it off at your place after I get back, but that won’t be for about another week because–”

“Alex, please–”

“–because I’m actually on vacation right now, Trevor, and I’ll thank you not to bother me any further.”

“Yeah, uh, I called your office, and they told me. Where _are_ you?”

“Somewhere you’re not,” Alex responds curtly. She’ll admit that when she took Trevor’s call, it was a moment of weakness, but actually talking to him is serving to strengthen her resolve that she really _does_ want this to be over. 

“Alex, come on, it was one time, okay? It never happened before. It was a stupid mistake, and…”

“How dumb do you think I am?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said how _dumb_ do you think I _am_?” she repeats, mockingly slow and spitting out the syllables. Her voice is perfectly calm – ice cold, in fact – but the venom in her words comes through loud and clear.

“Look, maybe you need some time to think about this, but I really don’t want to lose what we had together and I promise I’ll never–”

“I’ll leave your things outside your building when I get back,” Alex cuts him off brusquely. “Don’t answer the door.” 

She slams her phone closed with a snap, staring at it in disbelief for a second as she realizes she’s shaking.

\--

A cool thing about Jane’s apartment is that there’s a remote in the bedroom that controls all the shades on the windows – one of the mod-cons the other woman must have been referring to when she said she lavished extra money on it in the absence of a girlfriend. What’s even better is that the shades are the heavy-duty kind, so when they’re drawn, not a speck of light can pass through even at high noon. Alex swan-dives into the plush double bed, presses the remote, and pulls the covers over her head.

\--

When Alex awakens, the luminous numbers of Jane’s bedside clock inform her it’s dinnertime, and she kind of forgot to eat today so she’s pretty ravenous. A cursory glance outside reveals that the snow has stopped falling and is now lying in peaceful, fluffy drifts already marred by passing muddy feet. She’s been cooped up inside all day and is pretty desperately in need of some comfort food, so she ventures out in her big coat and snow boots, the vapor of her breath dancing ethereally in the cold winter air.

Against her better judgment, she finds herself making the short trek to the diner. If Liv’s there, she promises herself that she’ll turn right around and give the woman her space, but when she peers through the window she doesn’t see the detective’s chestnut locks anywhere. _The coast is clear_ , she says to herself, trying not to feel too disappointed. She gives in to the sentimental part of her that wants to sit in Liv’s booth, rationalizing the decision with the fact that it’s one of the few that are empty.

She eats slowly, watching out of the window as a dull, drizzly rain sets in, turning the snow on the ground outside to slush. She wonders how Jane’s doing back in Boston – if she’s finding everything okay, whether Maura forgot she was staying there and tried calling the landline again. She’ll give the detective a call later, she thinks, just to check in. The storm will most likely be heading up Massachusetts way later tonight or tomorrow, and she should double-check that Jane knows where the shovels are. The guy from downstairs usually does the sidewalks anyway, but when Alex is trying to avoid dwelling on something, it’s her nature to fuss over this kind of stuff.

She’s not sure what she was thinking, coming to the diner and expecting Liv to be waiting, her dark eyes and honeyed voice straight out of some kind of fairytale. If life was a fairytale, she wouldn’t _be_ here right now – she’d be back up in Boston, cuddling with Trevor and eagerly anticipating her Christmas day off so they could spend more time together. She signals the waitress and asks for the bill, trying her best to keep the bitterness out of her voice. So much for fairytales.

\--

It seems especially cold and dark outside in comparison to the bright, bustling diner, and the wind’s kicked up too, whistling around the edges of buildings to tangle in Alex’s hair. She pulls her hood up and braces herself against the icy drafts, deciding it’s definitely justifiable to take a cab back to Jane’s place, when she hears a voice behind her calling her name.

“Alex? What are you doing here?” 

Liv’s wrapped in a huge white parka that makes her look like a marshmallow, and her nose is bright red from the cold. Alex wants to wrap a scarf around her face and tell her to dress more warmly. She shrugs.

“I wanted something familiar.” 

She’d intended for that to come out sort of flippantly, a this-is-pathetic-and-I-know-it kind of deal, and she would’ve managed it if her voice hadn’t wobbled in the middle.

“Jesus, Alex,” Liv says quietly, coming up and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

\--

Jane isn’t sure whether she’s expected to show up to the bar again for a repeat performance, but there’s a snowstorm coming up from the south and judging by the footage on the news from New York, it’s going to be a big one, so she lets it make the decision for her. The forecasters say it’ll hit around ten, so she orders in and puts on one of Alex’s DVD’s – this chick flick Liv would tease her for watching, but she enjoys a good romantic comedy once in a while. 

She’s just getting to the part where the guy realizes what he’s lost and goes after the girl to tell her he loves her (she’s never seen this movie before, but these things all follow a formula) when her cell starts to vibrate against the coffee table. The caller ID shows an unfamiliar number with a 617 area code – a local call – but the only person she knows from Boston is Alex, whose details are already saved in her contacts. Frowning, she picks up.

“Hello?” she says guardedly.

“First big Nor’easter of the season – how are you holding up?”

The voice is familiar, but it takes Jane a second to place it. “Missi?”

“The one and only. I was in the neighborhood. Found your card in my pocket, wondered if you wanted some company.”

“I never gave you the address of where I’m staying,” Jane responds smugly.

“Boston’s a small city,” Missi retorts. “I’m probably in the neighborhood regardless.”

“Do you always make it a point to check up on women you’ve had trysts with in the storage room at work?”

“Only on days when I have to close my bar due to inclement weather and the trains are so delayed that by the time I get home I’ll have to turn around and come back again,” Missi counters. 

Jane senses there’s more coming. “And?” she prompts.

“I was wondering if there’s any room for me to crash?”

“I’ll make up the couch.”

\--

Jane’s very serious about having Missi sleep on the couch. She may not be exactly sure what this thing with the other woman is or where it has the potential to go, but if Missi can play hard to get she sure as hell can too. That’s not to say she doesn’t have second thoughts when Missi turns up on the doorstep all covered in snowflakes, hair delightfully tousled and plastered to her forehead, but she stands firm. She doesn’t realize until they get back upstairs that her movie is still on pause from earlier, and Missi says “Oooh, I love this one!” before following that up with “Do you have any popcorn?”

“I… think there’s some in one of the kitchen cabinets,” Jane replies, making a mental note to replace it before Alex comes home, and that’s how she and her lesbian hookup end up sitting side by side on the couch, watching a heterosexual love story.

\--

“I wish she would’ve paired up with the best friend,” Missi says as the credits roll. “That girl was cute. Way more compatible with her than that fuckin’ British guy.”

“Maybe it was the accent,” Jane says drolly. “What time do you have to go in tomorrow?”

“To Merch? I usually try to get there around two. Why?”

Jane shrugs, rising and heading for the bedroom. “If you play your cards right, I might make you breakfast.”

Missi tilts her head. “You were serious about the couch?”

“Goodniiight,” Jane sing-songs, and closes the bedroom door behind her.

\--

Jane wakes up to a sea of white outside the window, unspoiled snowdrifts stretching across the entire expanse of gardens separating the buildings on Alex’s street from the ones it backs onto. The flakes are still falling, eddying down in a whirling flurry that makes Jane shiver just to look at it, and the clouds are pure white and weighted with more. She tugs on her slippers and wanders out into the living area to find Missi channel-surfing with a cup of coffee in one hand, looking like she owns the place. 

“Good morning,” Jane says archly, and Missi gestures to the TV with her mug.

“Nine inches and still coming. They shut all the schools down, and public transportation’s at a standstill.” She grins. “Guess you’re not getting rid of me just yet.”

Jane blinks at her, bleary-eyed, and dimly registers that she looks good without make up on before shuffling off to make some toast.

\--

It’s a little strange acting like Suzy Homemaker with someone she’d hooked up with at a bar a couple of nights before, but Jane thinks she’s handling it pretty well, all things considered. Missi’s tactful enough to compliment her on her cooking even though she burns the eggs a little, and even strikes up some small talk over breakfast.

“Can I just ask one thing?” Jane interrupts, and Missi quirks an eyebrow.

“Shoot.”

“Are you asking me this stuff because you’re interested, or do you think you need to act like you should be? Because really, it’s no trouble letting you stay while it’s fuckin’…” She trails off and gestures to the window. “…Snowmageddon out there. You don’t have to pretend to care just because you feel obligated.”

Missi takes a long swig of orange juice. “You done, sugar?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“I asked because I was interested. I’m really not the type of person to blow smoke up people’s asses, no matter _what_ they think I owe them.”

Jane suddenly feels embarrassed. “In that case,” she says sheepishly, “I grew up in Brooklyn.”

Missi nods, accepting Jane’s attempt at papering over the awkwardness. “Southie.”

“Excuse me?”

“South Boston. Pretty working class, lot of Irish people. It’s technically more southeastern, but that’s not as catchy, is it?” 

“I guess not,” Jane responds, and Missi laughs, swiping her tongue across her lip to catch an errant drop of juice. She’s getting that predatory look about her again, and her gaze dips to the tight tank top Jane’s wearing. Jane feels her throat getting dry and clears it. 

“Siblings?” she inquires.

“Just me. What about you?”

“Two brothers. Hey, is this… weird?”

Missi meets her eyes unblinkingly. “Not on my end.”

“Well, do you usually…” Jane squirms, frustrated by Missi’s lack of comprehension. “You know, talk about your family history with a random hookup you met at your club?”

“What makes you think you were random?” Missi counters with a smile.

\--

“You don’t have to walk up with me,” Alex insists. Jesus, like Liv hasn’t done enough for her already, even after she’d screwed things up with the kiss.

“Oh, you’re right, I should just leave someone who isn’t from around here on her own in the middle of the sidewalk at night. That sounds like a great plan. I’ll be sure to do that.”

Alex rolls her eyes, amused by how protective Liv’s being. “You act like I come from a village in the Midwest or something, not the capital of New England. I know how to look out for myself.”

Liv shrugs. “This is the Big Apple, babe,” she says flippantly, but Alex can tell she’s testing the waters, waiting to see if the offhand endearment makes her balk. 

“Liv…”

Liv holds up her hands. “It’s okay. I won’t do that again.”

“No… it doesn’t bother me,” Alex says slowly, and it’s the truth. “It’s... I like it.”

Liv’s expression softens. “What about your boyfriend?”

“…My _ex_ -boyfriend,” Alex corrects, barely missing a beat, “and that’s over completely. Jane told you about that?”

“She said a friend of yours called your place and mentioned a breakup. That’s all I know.”

Alex winces. It’s not that she’s been hiding it from Liv exactly, just… things are complicated and undefined enough between them without adding Trevor into the equation. 

“Damn it, Maura,” she says under her breath, staring down at the slushy sidewalk for a moment before taking a deep breath and looking at Liv again. “You’d better come in.”

\--

Alex has a little trouble with the lock on the front door at first, but then Liv says, “Oh, it gets all screwed up when it’s cold. Jane’s been bitching about it for years but the landlord’s too cheap to fix it. May I?”

Alex is about to move her hand and let Liv try the key when Liv’s gloved palm slides on top of hers. Her breath catches in her throat as Liv guides her into jimmying the lock until it clicks open, then holds the door so she can walk inside.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, strangely disappointed when Liv’s hand leaves hers, and this is all new territory for her. She’s not sure whether she’s supposed to respond in kind once they get up to the apartment, or if Liv’s being the guy in this… whatever this is, so after they get to the top of the stairs she ends up awkwardly standing beside the door after she unlocks it, hoping Liv will make the decision for her.

“After you,” Liv says with this muted sort of grin on her face like she wants to laugh but is trying not to. 

Alex crosses the threshold in relief.

“Would you like some tea or anything? Hot chocolate?”

Liv smiles. “I know where to find it.” She strides over to the couch, sits down, and pats the space next to her. “Now, c’mon over here and talk to me.”

Alex follows reluctantly. She’s tempted to ask “About what?” just to stay the inevitable, but while she knows Liv will be patient with her, she has no real excuse to act evasive. It’s not like she’s an abused child or the victim of a sexual assault. Nothing _terrible_ has happened to her, at least not in comparison to what Liv more usually deals with. She’s just… she’s just a little messed up right now.

“There’s, uh. There’s this defense attorney,” she begins, feeling kind of self-conscious, but then Liv wrinkles her nose in exaggerated derision, making her laugh. Before she knows it, she’s spilling the whole sorry story, biting back the lump that rises in her throat as she gets to the night the relationship came to an end. 

Liv, to her credit, barely blinks throughout. At times she makes vague encouraging noises to prompt Alex to continue, or asks short, open-ended questions like “What happened after that?” Alex knows she’s trained to do this – that it’s part of her job – but she can’t help feeling comforted anyway, because Liv’s really good at it. When she reaches the end she leans back against the couch, emotionally wrung out, and Liv touches her arm sympathetically.

“So where do you go from here?” she asks softly. 

Alex fingers the embroidered edge of one of Jane’s cushions. 

“Alex?”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” she blurts, horrified the second the words are out of her mouth. Liv doesn’t say anything and she continues only to break the horrible silence, admitting, “Whenever he called, I was always disappointed it wasn’t you.”

“I didn’t stop calling because I didn’t care,” Liv tells her gently. “That wasn’t the reason. I just wanted to give you space so you could figure things out.”

“I know that.” Alex shakes her head. “I swear, I’m not usually like this. I…” She shrugs. “I’m a strong woman. I’m an attorney, you know? You kinda have to learn how to hold your own to get anywhere in this field.”

“Same with being a cop,” Liv says wryly, and they flash quick grins of understanding at each other before Alex drops her gaze.

“I think…” she begins. “No, I _know_ ,” she corrects herself, but that’s not right either. She’s been tossing this around in her head for days now, as much as she’s been trying not to think about it, and she’s fairly certain that what she’s about to say really is what she truly wants. “Well, maybe I’m just pretty sure, but… I am reasonably confident that I want to try this.”

“Okay,” Liv says calmly after a beat, and Alex envies the other woman’s ability to remain so outwardly unruffled. Although she’s pretty damn good at affecting a calm demeanor in court, Alex knows there are some telltale signs that give away when she’s pissed or scared or losing her patience: the visible clenching of her jaw, the increased pronouncement of this one vein in her neck. It was Trevor who’d told her that.

“So what does that mean?” Liv continues tentatively.

With some degree of hesitation, Alex lifts her hand and brings it to Liv’s face. She’s half afraid Liv will flinch away, but the detective holds her ground as Alex’s thumb delicately traces the curve of her cheekbone, and although she inhales sharply as Alex’s fingers reach the corner of her mouth, she never blinks. Alex would feel silly doing this with Trevor or any other guy, but there’s something about Liv’s femininity that makes it feel okay to. She cups Liv’s face in her hands, and Liv grins crookedly. 

“Do you feel this between us?” Alex whispers. She knows the timing’s weird, what with the rebound crap and all its associated vulnerabilities, but she’s ninety-nine percent sure this is more than that.

Liv lifts a hand and places it on top of one of hers. “Yeah, I do.”

Alex feels a tremor run through her whole body at the admission. It’s a thrill she hasn’t felt in so long that she’d almost forgotten how to recognize it. 

“May I kiss you now?” she manages to ask.

Liv answers in a husky timbre that makes Alex’s heart flutter in her chest. “Please.”

\--

It feels a lot different than the last time, now that Alex is sure of this going into it rather than acting on some crazy, spontaneous whim. Liv’s lips are soft and her skin is smooth, a pleasant departure from what Alex is used to. She deepens the kiss cautiously and Liv’s mouth willingly opens to her, allowing their tongues to tangle languidly. Liv slides her fingers through Alex’s hair, and how did she know Alex loves that? When Alex moans against her lips, she does it again.

They kiss on and off for a while, Liv pulling Alex close so that whenever they stop to catch their breaths, Alex is cuddled up against her. At one point Alex kisses her neck, and the groan this elicits makes Alex feel so powerful, so sensuous. She goes back for more but Liv puts a hand on her shoulder, gently holding her back.

“That’s enough for tonight,” she says, voice scratchy and strained like she can’t quite catch her breath. A timid, inexperienced part of Alex wants to ask if she did okay, but the light pink flush staining Liv’s cheeks makes the inquiry unnecessary. “I, uh. I have to work in the morning.”

Alex wonders how much of Liv shutting things down is really out of concern for getting enough sleep and how much is a necessary precaution to stop them from going too far too quickly. The thought both thrills and terrifies her. She’d never seriously imagined what it would be like to sleep with a woman before, but now she can’t think of anything else. 

Liv’s fingers brush through her hair again, but it’s a different touch this time, more intimate. “Are you okay with all this?”

Alex nods.

“Good.”

Liv stands, extending her hand to help Alex up, and when they reach the door she turns and presses a kiss to Alex’s lips.

“Don’t over-think it too much,” she murmurs, the tingle of her breath hot against Alex’s mouth. Alex clasps her hand and squeezes.

\--

When Alex wakes the following morning it takes a few moments for the recollections of the previous evening to come rushing back, but when they do she suddenly feels energized. She remembers the experience from outside herself, looking down on the two of them as if they were in a movie, but the sharp tactile memory of Liv’s fingers in her hair and Liv’s mouth on her lips grounds her enough to know it was really her that this happened to. She’s not sure where to go from here, what etiquette is employed with regard to who contacts who first when both parties are women, but it’s a good kind of cluelessness, a dearth of knowledge she never knew she had and is looking forward to filling.

It sounds cheesy but when she steps out of the apartment building, it feels like a whole new world outside. There’d been some more snowfall overnight; nothing compared to the previous day, but just enough to give everything a glistening sheen of white so pure it almost hurts to look at. She catches herself just before descending the stairway with a bounce in her step, remembering Liv’s warning about ice, but when she reaches the salted sidewalk she can’t seem to help herself. 

She spends the morning taking in artworks at the MoMA, the slight heaviness of the phone in her bag fueling her impatience to talk to Liv again. When she emerges from the museum she finally cracks, but just as she’s about to dial Liv’s number, her phone starts ringing. Her first thought is that Trevor still hasn’t taken the hint, but then Liv’s name comes up on the screen and she feels an unbearable lightness inside her. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, how are things?” comes Liv’s familiar voice down the line, warm and friendly as always. 

“Great, actually,” Alex responds, soft and serious – then, in a flash of boldness, “What are you doing for lunch?”

“Tracking down every Carlos Ramirez living on this damn island,” Liv says forlornly. “We’re hoping to find our guy in time for El to go say goodnight to his kids. The diner’s open pretty late, though. You sick of the food there yet?”

Alex laughs delightedly. “Not even a little bit.”

\--

By noon, the ploughs have rid the streets of Boston of the worst of the snow, and Missi’s in the bathroom taking a quick shower before work. Jane can’t believe she’s going in today, when all the kids are off school and most of the Commuter Rail lines still aren’t running, but Missi insists on it. Jane washes up from breakfast and listens to the faint strains of singing coming through the bathroom wall until the water stops running, which she takes as her cue to wipe off the dishes and place them on the draining rack.

“Hey, Jane?”

“Hm?” 

She looks up to find Missi peeking around the bathroom door, hair dead straight and a darker blonde than usual, dripping onto her bare shoulders.

“D’you have a spare towel I could use?”

“Oh, of course!” 

Jane hurries to the closet and removes one from atop Alex’s neatly folded pile. Missi accepts it gratefully, winking at her before disappearing back into the bathroom.

\--

“Hey, Jane?” Missi repeats a few minutes later, and Jane rolls her eyes. 

“Yeah, you can use my make up,” she calls preemptively. “Not that I have a wide variety, but.”

“No,” Missi purrs, opening the door again and standing there with the towel wrapped around her. “I can wear the pants I came here in last night again, but do you have a shirt I could borrow?”

“Uh… sure!” Jane responds, trying to keep her eyes on the other woman’s face. She wouldn’t be surprised if Missi was doing some of this on purpose, but she’s a guest after all and should be accommodated. “Why don’t you come look at the stuff I brought with me, and we’ll see if we can find anything.”

“Fantastic,” Missi says breathily, padding across the floor in her bare feet as she follows Jane into the bedroom. “See, I knew you’d let me in here eventually.”

Jane looks up from the array of clothing to meet Missi’s hungry blue eyes. “I, ah, don’t have much of a selection, but if black is too boring for you, I think the red would look nice.”

Missi nods decisively. “I’ll take it,” she asserts, then drops the towel to the floor.

\--

All Jane can do is stare for a minute. Missi’s body is all angles and curves, her long, elegant neckline tapering into the broad cut of her shoulders. Jane follows the lines of her body down past her full, firm breasts to the flat plane of her stomach.

“You have to work,” she says faintly, and Missi shrugs.

“The trains aren’t running. How the hell was I supposed to get here?”

Jane grins in spite of herself. “Jesus, you’re a piece of work.”

“Try me,” Missi shoots back, fluid and comfortable in her nakedness as she rests a sassy hand on her hip. 

Jane hesitates for a second, then grabs her waist and kisses her.

\--

As intense as Jane thought the other woman would be in bed, Missi somehow manages to exceed her expectations. She tears Jane’s clothes off in record time, pinning her against the sheets before she even has time to take stock of what’s happening. Usually Jane would resist more, try to take the leading position herself, but she’s enjoying Missi’s raw energy and domination as she writhes beneath the blonde, gasping quietly as Missi’s teeth sink into her neck. She tries to buck upwards in a futile attempt at gaining some friction but Missi holds her hips down, biting along her clavicle to leave a fine red flush.

Jane gasps as Missi’s tongue flicks expertly over the velvety softness of one of her nipples, bringing it quickly to a point before grazing it with her teeth just hard enough to hurt. Whining, Jane tries to grind against her, but Missi restrains her firmly, kissing down her stomach to the insides of her thighs.

“Please,” Jane murmurs, so turned on it feels like she’s dripping. Missi lets her writhe in delicious agony for just long enough before pressing her tongue to the warmth between her legs.

\--

“Oh, _God_ ,” Liv moans, collapsing into a booth at the diner – _their_ booth, Alex thinks a little giddily, then pushes the thought out of her head. “It’s so good to sit down.”

“Long day?” Alex asks sympathetically.

“Impossibly.” Liv runs her hands through her cropped hair and regards Alex with tired eyes. “We think this Carlos guy might know something, but we can’t track him down. We were at it for eight hours before our captain told us to pack it in and continue in the morning.” 

She’s exhausted and obviously frustrated, but still manages a smile for the waitress who brings her hot chocolate. She grasps it gratefully in her cold hands, takes a small sip, then asks, “How was your day?”

Alex loves that she’s so attentive. Even though Liv has problems of her own to worry about, she doesn’t let herself get wrapped up in them at the expense of showing an interest in other people, and that’s something truly admirable. Alex knows it isn’t fair to keep comparing Liv to Trevor, but in this aspect – as with most of them – the detective comes out _way_ on top.

“Decidedly less stressful than yours,” she answers mildly. “I went to the Museum of Modern Art earlier.”

Liv smiles. “You’re really into this sightseeing thing, aren’t you? The MoMA, Central Park…” 

“I suppose.” Alex shrugs. “I figure I should see stuff while I can. I’ll be leaving in a week.”

They’re both quiet for a moment, contemplating the idea of having such a distance between them, and then Liv breaks the somber silence.

“Have you been to the top of the Empire State Building yet?” 

Alex shakes her head, and Liv looks at her watch. 

“Wanna change that?”

\--

Alex honestly can’t believe she’s doing this. It is literally close to freezing outside and yet here they are, stepping out of a cab at the corner of Fifth and West 34th St. 

“You’re _sure_ they’re still open?” she presses, and Liv just rolls her eyes.

“Completely. The observation deck doesn’t close until two.”

“This city really _doesn’t_ ever sleep,” Alex murmurs, allowing Liv to pull her towards the skyscraper’s front doors.

\--

Alex’s ears pop on the elevator ride, but she doesn’t get a real sense of how high up they are until she sees a scale model of the tower and its surroundings inside the interior portion of the deck and reminds herself that she’s _at the top of it_.

“This would probably have been a good thing to ask before we got up here,” Liv begins wryly, noticing her expression, “but you’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

“No,” Alex reassures her. “At least, I don’t think so. I’ve never been up this high before.”

Liv smiles. “You’ll be fine,” she says confidently, zipping up her big white coat and holding out a gloved hand. “Ready?”

Alex accepts it with a squeeze and takes a deep breath. “Ready.”

\--

They step outside and the wind slices across them, sharp as a knife. If Alex thought it was cold at street level, that was nothing compared to being eighty-six floors above the ground. As they walk towards the edge more and more of the city comes into view, spread out like a magic carpet of a million twinkling lights, the Chrysler Building spearing the sky with its distinctive silver spire. Beyond Manhattan, glittering bridges loom from the water’s inky blackness, giving way to a faraway patchwork of streetlights and billboards, lamps in living rooms, fluorescent storefronts and office strip lighting. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Liv asks in hushed tones, and Alex whispers an affirmative. It would feel disrespectful to speak at a normal volume in the presence of such a view, and she’s glad Liv understands that. Liv wraps an arm around her, holding her close, and Alex thinks how lucky it was that their paths crossed. She’d never imagined this trip would result in her sharing something like this with someone, and it’s crazy to consider that if Jane hadn’t seen her ad online, she wouldn’t even be in New York right now. She and Liv’s connection was born of such a fragile chain of circumstance that it’s hard to believe this was all a coincidence.

“Hey,” she murmurs. When Liv turns to look at her, she kisses the other woman on the lips.

\--

“Can I ask you something?”

Jane and Missi have been in bed all day, mostly kissing and fooling around, but while they’re waiting to get their breaths back, they talk. Jane’s surprised at how easy the conversation flows now that they’re not dancing around each other’s flirtation. Missi’s still blunt and confident, but no longer aggressively so.

“Mm?” the blonde murmurs drowsily next to her.

“Why the fuck didn’t you ask me to stay and help… you know, ‘clean up’ the night you met me? I would’ve. I think you know I would’ve.”

Missi opens one eye. “The thrill of the chase,” she says lazily. “If you got me too easily, you wouldn’t have been as interested.”

Jane’s about to protest when she realizes that’s probably true.

“Besides,” Missi continues, “you totally pulled the same thing on me when you made me sleep on the couch last night.”

“…Can I plead the fifth?” Jane asks laughingly, caught at her own game, and Missi rolls over and kisses her, slipping a hand underneath the covers.

\--

Jane’s never been this intimate with a hookup before; not in terms of sex, of course, but familiarity. She really isn’t one for one-night-stands, but they’re a way to blow off steam between failed relationships. Whenever she tries to pursue something serious, the other person turns out to be either crazy or closeted or something else that’s a deal-breaker, so near-anonymous sex with Missi had seemed like an ideal temporary solution – except for the fact that it had evolved into something more.

She regards the woman now sleeping beside her. If they lived in the same city and didn’t work totally different hours, maybe… maybe she’d let herself want to pursue something. But she’s going home in a week, so if Missi’s up for it, they’ll have a few more days of being fuck buddies – an arrangement she assumes is what they both want until Missi wakes up and asks her to dinner.

\--

“What?” Missi asks, face falling at Jane’s expression. “You don’t want the pleasure of my company?”

“It’s not that,” Jane begins awkwardly, “just… what are we doing here?”

“Lying down?” Missi says innocently, and now – _now_ she chooses to be cute? _Jesus_.

“Just… we hook up, okay, and it’s very firmly… _that_ ,” Jane tries to explain, indicating the space to the right of her. “And then you come here and you stay, and suddenly it’s _this_.” She points to the bed. “You know? And I’m not sure how we got from that to this, but we can’t stay here even if we both want to, because I have to go back… there.”

Missi doesn’t respond immediately, and her brow is furrowed like she’s trying to decode what Jane just said. “…Meaning New York?”

“Yes.”

“You make it sound like it’s Africa, Jane. It’s, what, one hour to fly, four to drive? My daily _commute_ is an hour. I think I could handle it.”

Jane stares at her. “You’d want to?”

“Would you?”

“I…” Jane flounders. “Long distance relationships don’t work, Missi.”

“That wasn’t what I asked you.”

“I can’t even make short distance relationships work.” She frowns at her wording. “I mean–”

“I know what you mean,” Missi interrupts. “And, okay, so things go sour when the other person’s local. This could be a good solution for you.”

Jane laughs in spite of herself. “No.”

“No, what? No, it definitely, one hundred percent won’t work, or no, you don’t even want to bother trying?”

“Missi…”

“Did you graduate from the Police Academy because you didn’t want to bother trying?”

“Huh?”

“Is the reason you’re a detective instead of still just a beat cop because you didn’t want to bother trying?”

Jane can see where she’s going with this, and it’s infuriating because she’s actually making a good argument. 

“No…” she concedes grudgingly.

“So, what, you just don’t think I’m worth it?”

Jane sighs and stares down at the rumpled bedclothes. 

“I do think you’re worth it,” she says quietly. “You really think we can do this?”

“Hey.” Missi reaches out to touch her chin, tilting her head so they’re looking at each other. “I think we can try.”

\--

The tone of things between them is different after that. It’s softer somehow, more relaxed and comfortable, but not without the glimmer and excitement of a blossoming new connection. They lie in bed for a while longer, then Missi actually does take her out to eat, and pays for it (Jane is floored). There’s a subway station near the restaurant and Missi talks about going home, maybe seeing each other tomorrow or whenever Jane feels like getting together, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense to Jane because the other woman has to come right back into the city the next day anyway and besides, she doesn’t want her to go.

They’re waiting for the check when Jane reaches across the table and puts her hand on top of Missi’s. The other woman stops talking instantly, and Jane clears her throat and says, “Stay.”

Missi does.

\--

It’s ridiculous how fast the time goes after the night atop the Empire State Building. Work gets pretty crazy for Liv – they find the Ramirez guy, and the case blows wide open – but she and Alex either call or see each other every single day. Before Alex knows it, it’s her last night in the city, and Liv calls to arrange going to dinner at a place fancy enough to wear her cocktail dress to. 

“If I come meet you at the squad room, don’t let me walk in on you screwing one of your colleagues, okay?” Alex jokes, and if she can laugh about the Trevor thing now… well, that has to be a step in the right direction.

“It’ll be hard, but I’ll do my best to keep my hands off Munch while you’re around,” Liv says seriously, and Alex hears an incredulous splutter from the detective at the next desk over.

She hangs up the phone with a smile on her face.

\--

They’d agreed that the night would be about celebrating what they found with each other rather than dwelling on the sadness of the impending goodbye, but Alex can’t help getting choked up as she prepares for their big date. She curls her hair into this Fifties starlet style that she loves, selecting the perfect lipstick to match her deep red dress after deliberately leaving her make up for last, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. It’s going to break her heart to leave Liv behind. 

When she gets to the restaurant, Liv’s waiting, looking gorgeous in basic black. They make a striking pair as they’re led to their table, with more than a few heads turning to admire them, and Alex can’t stop staring at her date because no matter how much time they spend together, she’s always surprised by how much more beautiful Liv is in person compared to the picture inside her head. Olivia has the kind of beauty that moves, sparkling eyes and fluid bone structure and the beginnings of laugh lines that crinkle when she smiles, but it’s not all physical. She has an aura about her, and that’s the best way Alex can think to phrase it. If you saw her on the street, you’d be able to tell she’s a good person by the pride she takes in holding her head up, an indicator of the compassionate toughness with which she tackles every case she catches and every obstacle thrown her way. Alex is in awe of her sometimes, and she _never_ felt like this about Trevor – or anyone else, for that matter – which is a big part of how she knows this is so special.

\--

It hasn’t snowed since the storm so they walk back to Jane’s building hand-in-hand rather than taking a taxi, and Alex is doing okay with everything until she goes to unlock the apartment door and realizes it’s the last time she’ll ever do it. In the morning she flies back to Boston, to her job and ex-boyfriend and a world without Liv in it, and, God, she knows she’ll be down here most weekends but suddenly that doesn’t feel like enough.

“Don’t cry,” Liv murmurs, but Alex can hear in her voice that she’s holding back tears of her own. They move to the bedroom, wordlessly stripping off their clothes as they kiss desperately, clinging to each other like they’re drowning, and then Liv’s hands are all over her, Liv’s mouth, Liv’s tongue, and Alex shudders through a more intense pleasure than she’s ever felt in her life before gladly reciprocating. Seeing Liv unravel beneath her is something she’ll never forget, snapshots of moments emblazoning themselves into her mind’s eye: Liv arched in pleasure, mouth ajar, Liv biting her lip, Liv’s eyes squeezed shut as she’s about to reach her climax.

They fall asleep holding each other, and Alex never wants the morning to come.

\--

Jane actually ends up spending a lot of great quality time with Missi during her last few days in Boston – something she’d never expected to come out of their relationship the night they’d first met. Dinner dates are out as soon as Merch reopens, but Missi makes up for that by taking Jane to lunch and the movies, even the skating rink on Boston Common, much to Jane’s reluctance. She ends up gripping Missi’s hand the whole time, which she apologizes for after, and when Missi admits she enjoyed it, Jane may or may not blush.

They spend her last night in Boston together, and in the morning, Missi helps lug Jane’s case down the creaky, tilted stairs of Alex’s brownstone. She whips out a Red Sox hat and places it firmly atop Jane’s curls as Jane yowls in outrage about sworn enemies and Yankees ’til death, but long after they kiss goodbye Jane keeps it proudly on her head, her ponytail threaded through it.

\--

Alex awakens safe and warm in Liv’s arms, languishing in the feeling of being right where she’s supposed to be before she catches sight of the plane ticket sitting on the dresser. Her stomach sinks. Christmas Eve is supposed to be filled with anticipation, not dread. She nuzzles Liv’s cheek, pressing a soft kiss to it, but Liv’s been pulling enough overtime to make her dead to the world right now. Alex gets up quietly and pulls on a bathrobe, packing all the clothes she brought with her except an outfit for the plane, then does a walkthrough of the apartment to make sure she hasn’t left any belongings lying around. Whenever she checks the clock, the time is later than she expects it, and the knot in her stomach pulls tighter and tighter as her departure becomes more imminent.

When she walks out of the bathroom with her toothpaste safely contained in a Ziplock bag all ready for the airport inspection, Liv’s sitting up in bed with the saddest expression she’s ever seen. She opens her mouth but there’s a lump in her throat that her voice can’t seem to get around, and when Liv pats the empty space beside her she gladly crawls under the covers and back into the other woman’s arms. Liv holds her silently for a few moments, stroking her hair soothingly.

“I can’t say goodbye,” Alex whispers.

“You don’t have to. You’ll see me for New Year’s, and after that we’ll take it from there. You’re not losing me. You couldn’t if you wanted to.”

“I don’t want to,” Alex affirms, and Liv clasps her face and kisses her.

\--

Alex leaves Liv at Jane’s apartment (“I’ll house-sit for a while – Jane has a bigger TV than I do,” Liv explains, making her laugh in spite of herself) and climbs numbly into a taxi, directing the driver to JFK. She calls Maura because she needs a distraction, and the M.E. only needs to hear her voice for a second to know that something’s wrong.

“I’m fine, Maura, I…” Alex cuts herself off because she can tell she’s about to cry, and she really needs to get a hold of herself right now. 

“Please don’t lie to me. Your pitch is almost a full octave above normal, which would suggest you’re grappling with an intense emotional reaction that’s indicative of you not being fine, in fact, at all.” Maura pauses. “And besides, you’re my friend. This isn’t very scientific, but – I can just tell.”

Alex bites her lip. “Maura, I met someone.”

“Well, that’s great!” Maura exclaims, sounding slightly confused about why Alex doesn’t seem happier. “Is it, you know, something you can see pursuing, or just for while you were there?”

“It’s… I’m pretty serious about it. I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but I want it to last a lot longer.”

“Alex, that’s so sweet,” Maura gushes. “Ooh, tell me everything about him! Where did you meet? What’s his name?”

Alex is pretty sure Maura wouldn’t care which gender she dated, but you can never really tell with people until you confront them with it so she’s still a little nervous as she answers, “Olivia.”

There’s a short silence on the other end of the line.

“Olivia?” Maura echoes, like she’s waiting for more information.

“Olivia Benson,” Alex supplies. “She’s an NYPD detective. I met her through Jane. Um, Maura… does that matter to you?”

“Does what matter to me?”

She rolls her eyes. “Us. Her.”

“Does she make you happy?” 

“Very much.” Her voice only wavers a little, but it’s enough for her friend to pick up on.

“You’re really torn up about having to leave her, aren’t you?”

Alex _really_ didn’t want to do this, but pretty soon the tears are spilling down her face without abandon. The driver looks at her in his mirror, and she avoids his eyes. 

“Alex, no-one should be separated from someone they love at Christmas. Stay an extra few days,” Maura says gently. “You told me Donnelly was pushing for you to take this week off too, right? What did she say? ‘If you’re gonna take a vacation once in five years, better make it a long one’?”

Alex sniffs. “Yeah, but Jane’s leaving today, and…” She thinks about her schedule. Most of the stuff on her plate next week is desk work she could easily do remotely, and she has a couple of depositions but a fellow A.D.A. owes her a favor. “Wait, weren’t we supposed to see each other tomorrow?”

Maura laughs. “Don’t come back on my account. I promise, it’s okay. I’ll see you next week, Alex.”

Alex nods even though Maura can’t see her, and she feels a rush of adrenaline as she commits to actually doing this. “You’re a wonderful friend, you know that?”

“It’s what I do,” Maura says airily, and Alex says goodbye before leaning forward to tap the driver on the shoulder.

“Sir, I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but would you mind turning this cab around?”

\--

Alex had left Jane’s keys with Liv, and it’s a strange feeling not being able to walk right up like she always had. She buzzes the apartment, and when she gets an answer all she needs to say is Liv’s name before the intercom goes dead. The next thing she knows, Liv’s rushing down the staircase and into her arms.

\--

Jane spends Christmas at her parents’ and Liv comes along as planned, because she doesn’t have any family left to spend the holidays with and Angela Rizzoli’s like a second mother to her. Alex is a welcome addition, and later Serena drops by with A.D.A. Novak in tow, an attorney Jane and Liv know slightly as a prosecutor for the white collar crimes unit. Casey’s confident and pretty, with deep gray eyes and lips like Angelina Jolie, and although Serena says she’s only been dating the woman a week, it’s obvious they’ve connected. 

Jane’s mother makes everyone laugh when she insists on calling Missi at her parents’ place to see if she’s “good people,” and Alex and Liv sneak a quick kiss in the family’s kitchen before helping to carry out the dessert. By nightfall, Jane’s father is snoring on the couch while Angela’s hard at work in the kitchen, batting away everyone but Jane, who she puts on dish-drying duty. The guests linger for a while, sipping cognac by the roaring fire, before Alex and Liv slip out to go back to Liv’s apartment and make some sparks of their own.

\--

A week later, Alex and Liv head down to Times Square to meet up with Serena, Casey, Jane and Missi, who’d got her assistant manager to cover at Merch for the night. It’s as cold and crowded as Alex remembers from the last New Year’s Eve she spent here all those years ago, but she warms up fast thanks to a flask of cider thoughtfully brought along by Casey. Alex had initially worried that the time would drag, but the sparkling presence of the five women with her makes the evening pass quickly, and before she knows it the countdown is starting. They stand amid the throngs of people, yelling out numbers as the vapors from their breaths mingle together in the cold air, and their midnight kisses give each of them hope for a happy new year.

\--


End file.
